Can't Stop Me
by cherryredxx
Summary: Unfortunately for Ron and Hermione, none of the Weasley siblings seemed to grasp the concept of privacy. Written for the Ron/Hermione Competition on HPFC.


_For Ashleigh_

x

It wasn't as though Ron Weasley was an impatient person…

Okay, well, that's obviously not true. Let's begin again, shall we?

It wasn't as though Ron Weasley was impatient about _everything_. (There, that's better, right?) Having grown up in a home with five older brothers and one younger sister, it was inevitable that some kind of sharing and respect for each other's boundaries would develop – they couldn't _all_ use the bathroom at the same time after all.

But there were simply certain things that he was just not willing to share.

Underwear, for example.

And, in this case, his precious alone time with his new girlfriend.

Unfortunately for Ron and Hermione – although she seemed to take the unwelcomed company of the many Weasley siblings much better than he did – no one seemed to understand the concept of _privacy_.

And to be frank, an eighteen-year-old boy and his girlfriend _needed_ privacy. (At this point, please imagine Ron Weasley winking overdramatically at the obvious insinuation.)

So they sat in Ron's bedroom, staring wistfully into each other's eyes and feeling almost unspeakably happy that they had finally gotten to this point. They were more than friends now. They weren't Harry, Hermione and Ron. They were Hermione and Ron, and then there was Harry and Ginny… although, this was something that Ron had a propensity to ignore, as it often dampened his mood. That smarmy git was supposed to be Ron's best friend, but instead he spent all of his time snogging his best friend's little sister…

"Ron," Hermione said, her voice almost a whisper, "what are you thinking about?"

He blinked, snapping himself out of thoughts of Harry and Ginny. A smile crossed his lips. "Just you, Hermione," he answered (almost) truthfully as he ran a tender finger along her cheek, caressing her smooth skin gingerly.

He pulled her in for a kiss. His lips brushed against hers, opening hers gently with his tongue. Their tender kiss slowly began to heat up as Ron pushed her onto her back against his bed, his long fingers caressing her sides soothingly. He thought his heart was going to explode with all of the intimate contact that was going on – his lips on hers, her fingers threaded through her hair, their legs wound together. They'd kissed before, certainly, but they'd never done anything close to _this_.

Then his bedroom door opened.

"Merlin, Ron, how do you expect poor Hermione to breathe with your tongue down her throat?"

Sighing and closing his eyes briefly, Ron got up and helped Hermione get to a sitting position before turning around and eyeing his brother, George, with irritation.

"Can I help you?" Ron asked his brother through gritted teeth.

George smiled sweetly at his little brother and his girlfriend. "No, not really," he said innocently. "Just wanted to see what you two were doing."

Ron fumed at his brother – and at Hermione, who was unsuccessfully trying to stifle a giggle at her boyfriend's reddening face.

"We were just about to play chess, George," Hermione offered, pointing vaguely to where she knew Ron normally kept his Wizards Chess set, "but, you see, I had something in my eye, and Ron was just helping me to get it out." She fought to keep a straight face, knowing that there was no way in the world George would believe her lie.

The older boy nodded smugly. "I see. And since _chess_ is a game that is normally for two people, I'm guessing that I'm unwelcome here."

"Yes," Ron replied, again through gritted teeth. "You're quite unwelcome."

Hermione nudged her boyfriend in the ribs, hard.

"Maybe we can play later, George," Ron offered weakly as he rubbed the newly sore spot on his side.

"I don't think so, mate. At least, not the way that you two are playing _chess_."

The older Weasley cackled to himself as he exited Ron's bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Ron waited until George's howling could no longer be heard before turning back to his girlfriend. He ran a hand through her dark hair and down her cheek. "Now where were we?" he asked softly, leaning in to press another kiss against her lips.

His hand began running along her side again, down to the hem of her blouse. Ron's fingers slid beneath the fabric, brushing the warm skin of her taut stomach with the feather-light touch of his fingertips. Even touches like this felt amazing to Ron, just because they had finally gotten to this point. He could remember a time when merely touching her hand made him want to gag. But he didn't want to think about times when he was too young and naïve to know better. He finally had her – his Hermione. And together they were going to take the next step.

His hands trailed from her stomach upwards, over her ribcage, up to the curve of her breast. He kept his eyes locked on hers, making his touches seem all the more intimate. She smiled at him and nodded almost imperceptibly, letting him know that it was okay. He could keep going. She was ready to do more with him.

Carefully, he turned them onto their sides, facing each other. Slowly, he traced the lacy pattern embroidered on the cup of her bra, up to where her skin was exposed. Her breath hitched as his hands went to places they'd never been before, pulling the thick fabric away from her skin and exposing her to him for the first time.

"Oh my God!"

Ron collapsed against the bed, exasperated, as Hermione quickly covered herself. They had apparently been so engrossed in the moment that they hadn't noticed his bedroom door opening or his little sister entering the room.

"I did not need to see that. You're lucky it was just me."

"Yeah. _Lucky_." Ron sighed as he threw an arm over his eyes. "What d'you want, Gin?"

"I needed Hermione's advice," Ginny said, flopping beside her brother on his bed, uninvited, as Hermione struggled to regain composure and straighten out her clothing. "Harry has just been so distant lately. I wonder if I'm doing something wrong."

Ron sighed. He did not want to hear about this, ever.

"It's just, the other day everything was perfectly fine," Ginny continued, oblivious to the fact that her presence was definitely unwelcome. "But then yesterday, we were at Grimmauld Place, kissing on his bed, and he stopped and said he had work to do!"

This got Ron's attention. He sat up slowly, staring down at his sister, infuriated. "_Why_ were the two of you kissing on his bed?"

Ginny sat up and stared at her brother as if he had grown a set of horns. "Because he's my boyfriend."

"Yeah, and you're _my_ little sister!" Ron shouted indignantly. "And my sweet little Ginny does not go around kissing boys on their beds, ever, until you're married! Or until I die, whichever comes first!"

The younger girl stared at her brother, glaring fiercely. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "If only you knew, dear brother, just how many boys your 'sweet little Ginny' has kissed," she chided mockingly.

Ron glared back. "How many?" he hissed. "And _who_?"

She smiled sweetly. "Would you like me to list them alphabetically or chronologically?"

The metaphorical steam that escaped Ron's ears was almost visible.

Sensing that the tension was not going to diffuse itself, Hermione cleared her throat. "Um, Ginny, why don't we – er – talk about this later? I'll give you some advice about Harry then, all right?"

Satisfied at the fact that she had riled her brother up significantly, Ginny stood up and left her brother's room wordlessly.

Hermione leaned against the door and sighed heavily. This time, she had the sense and the foresight to lock the door before any other Weasleys decided to check in on them.

Slowly and cautiously, the brunette approached her boyfriend, who was still fuming at the knowledge that his little sister was not, in fact, the perfectly innocent little girl (who was, in fact, almost seventeen, and not actually a little girl at all) that Ron had always assumed she'd be for the rest of her life.

Hermione ran her hands over her boyfriend's arms soothingly, trying to distract him from his thoughts. She sighed heavily. "Ginny isn't doing anything wrong, you know."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "How could you possibly say that, Hermione? That's my little sister! And she's probably snogged half the boys in Gryffindor! How is that okay?"

The brunette glared. "Well look at us, won't you? I'm only a year older than her, and I'm over here snogging you on your bed. Does that mean I'm doing something wrong?"

"Of course not! This is totally different!"

"How?"

He opened his mouth to speak – and say something very profound to definitively prove his point and win the argument – but then realized that he was lacking in any kind of logical reasoning for why what Hermione was doing was different.

Because it wasn't.

"Because you're not my baby sister," he said weakly.

She smiled wryly. "I should hope not."

Ron sighed. "I guess she's really growing up, isn't she?"

"She is, and Harry loves her, Ron. You know she's being taken care of. It's not like those silly relationships she had with Michael or Dean, or that little fling she had with Malfoy…"

"She had a w_hat_!?"

"I'm teasing, Ronald!" Hermione laughed. "My point is, she loves Harry just as much as I love you, and there's not a soul in the world who can stop me from what I'm about to do."

He raised his eyebrows. "Stop you from what?"

For a brief moment, there was no response. She nibbled at her bottom lip for a moment before reaching down and pulling at the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head and flinging it at the door. Her bra went soon afterward. Then she pressed her lips to his, shoving him back against the bed and straddling his hips. Her pulse was racing and her breathing was rapid as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt before pressing her body into his.

Everything felt warm, as he laced his fingers through her thick hair. Her kisses were frantic and passionate, and he could tell that she was beyond nervous.

Gently, he stopped her. "Hermione, you don't have to do this if you don't want."

Still nibbling on her bottom lip, she shook her head. "Nobody in the world can stop me. Not George, not Ginny, not anybody."

In one swift motion, Ron flipped them over, pinning Hermione against the bed as they took their time, finally getting to take the next step.

And because Hermione had the foresight to actually _lock_ the door, no Weasley was able to stop them.

…although, not from lack of trying.

_fin_


End file.
